Just You and Me
by SomewhereBeyondReality
Summary: "Monica thought he looked a small child clinging to a safety blanket..." Monica and Chandler bond over loneliness and failed relationships. Pre-Mondler fluff: Sad!Chandler, Comfort!Monica. Takes place sometime after Chandler and Janice break up in S3.


**Title:** Just You and Me  
**Author**: SomewhereBeyondReality  
**Rating**: K  
**Summary:** "_Monica thought he looked a small child clinging to a safety blanket."_ Monica and Chandler bond over loneliness and failed relationships. Pre-Mondler fluff: Sad!Chandler, Comfort!Monica. Takes place sometime after Chandler and Janice break up in S3.  
**Disclaimer:** Hi Marta Kauffmen here, I got sick of writing for millions of viewers and making a fortune so turned to fanfiction. Hope you enjoy!  
**A/N:** Inspired while watching Season 3. Chandler's broken up with Janice so she can go back to her husband, and Monica's still recovering from Richard. Because you can never have too much Pre-Mondler!

_X-X_

"_I thought this would get easier." _

Monica threw off her covers angrily.

She'd _just _started sleeping normally again, but a phone call from her mother had her back to lying awake at 2 in the morning aching with misery.

"_All I can say is I'm glad Ross has got Ben. Even if he is the son of his ex-lesbian wife, at least we've got a grandchild. Anyway, how is the love life dear? You haven't mentioned a man in a while..." _

She hung her legs over the side of the bed, thinking about what to do. Normally when she was stressed, she went to default mode: cleaning or cooking. After her break up with Richard the apartment had smelt constantly of cookies and furniture polish.

Tonight though, she was just too tired. She wanted to turn her brain off and relax, not work.

"_Maybe I could watch a movie? Joey and Chandler always have of videos...even if half of them are Baywatch recordings."_

Deciding this was the best option she grabbed her dressing gown and crept through her apartment.

Carefully tiptoeing across the hallway, Monica opened the door and flicked on the light, hoping to avoid waking up the guys.

She froze, realizing someone was up.

_Chandler?_

Her friend was sitting in his armchair in the middle of the apartment. There was a thick rug tucked over him, which he was gripping tightly. Monica thought he looked a small child clinging to a safety blanket. The TV was off and Joey was clearly asleep or on a date. Several empty beer bottles lay on the floor, the smell of alcohol permeating the air.

Chandler didn't react when she entered. He sat there silently, staring into nothing, his eyes blank and unfocused. The maternal instinct in Monica was worried, unused to seeing her usually alert friend so quiet.

"Chandler?" She said, walking over and kneeling next to him. "Chandler, sweetie."

He jerked, weary eyes meeting hers and regaining focus. She could smell the beer in his breath.

"Oh, sorry Mon. I was just...Did you want something?"

"I was looking for..." She trailed off. "Don't worry."

He looked at her strangely, obviously confused at why she'd come barging into the apartment at 2 in the morning, but too drunk to care. "Okay."

Silence fell, and for once Chandler didn't seem inclined to break it. He returned to his vacant state, gazing away from her. Monica gripped the arm of the chair carefully and watched his dejected profile. There was something wrong (and she was pretty sure she knew what), but getting Chandler, the master of emotional defences, to talk about it was a dangerous manoeuvre. Even when he was obviously pissed.

"Chandler," Monica ventured cautiously. "What's wrong?"

He kept staring at the wall, but his fingers tightened around the blanket.

"Sweetie, you can talk to me. I'm not going to judge you. Hell, after seeing your third nipple I don't think there's anything of you _left_ for me to judge." She said, trying to make him laugh.

She was rewarded by an upwards quirk of his lips, but they quickly returned to their stony set.

"Chandler..."

"Why did I do it Mon?" He asked blankly. "Why did I tell her to leave?"

She was right. This _was_ about Janice. Monica felt angry at the thought of Chandler's irritating, ex-girlfriend. If you want to get a divorce, fine. If you want to move on from your cheating husband, fine. But you bloody well make sure you've sorted it out before breaking guy's hearts and running back again. _Especially_ Chandler's heart. He'd had enough scars rip him open already (his parent's divorce, his mum's neglect, his dad's constant embarrassment) without adding more. She felt a wave of protectiveness over her vulnerable friend rush through her.

"Chandler." She said gently, "You know it was the right thing to do."

"Sure it was." He replied bitterly, finally turning to look at her, his face drawn with pain. "The right thing for her, with her fricking _kid_ and _husband _and game of happy families. Great, yay, they all lived happily ever after, good for Janice! But what about me Mon? What am I left with? Sitting alone looking back at another crappy, failed relationship and wondering –" His voice cracked, and he closed his eyes.

"Oh Chandler..."

She reached for his hand and clasped it gently, stroking her fingers across his knuckles.

"Am I just an idiot Mon?" He said, his voice muffled. "Did I just throw away my last chance for a real relationship? Janice was my safety net and now...now I'm just going to end up like Mr Heckles again. A lonely, crazy snake man."

"Sweetie," Monica scooted around to crouch in front of him, one hand gripping his tightly, and the other drifting up to cup his chin. "Sweetie, look at me." He raised his head reluctantly, eyes shimmering with emotion that she so rarely saw.

"You did _not_ throw your last chance away." She told him. "I know it's hard, but you had to let Janice go. Not just for her, but for yourself. Things would never have worked out as they were, the circumstances weren't right. She was still in love with her husband, and that...that would have driven you apart anyway."

She took a deep breath. "It's like with me and Richard. For a long time, I wondered, still wonder, if I did the right thing in leaving him. Whether I could have made it work, or tried harder or..." Her voice wobbled and tears spilled down her cheeks, but Monica resisted the urge to wipe them away, entwining her hands more firmly with Chandler's. "But it wouldn't have worked. We were in different places. I know that. It's sucks and feels like crap, but that's the truth. If two people are in different places, whether it's with returning to husbands or not wanting kids...you can't do anything about that. No matter how much you want to. That's life."

Chandler nodded mutely, his eyes downcast. She took a deep breath and continued.

"But you've got to believe that's not the end. You and Janice weren't right, but you'll find someone else Chandler. There are other people out there."

Her voice broke and she choked, unable to carry on. Chandler looked up at her, his own eyes brimming.

"Oh Mon," He said gently. He pulled her up onto his lap, and wrapped his arms around her waist. She responded likewise, locking her hands around his neck and burying her face in his chest. They clung together on his chair, holding each other tighter and tighter in a desperate, mutual attempt for comfort.

She felt cool moisture seep into her hair, and realized with a start that Chandler was crying too. She'd known he was miserable about the break up but he was so practiced at hiding his emotions under layers of self-deprecation and sarcasm, that it was hard to gauge his real feelings. Truthfully, she was surprised he was so open now. (Even if it was partly the alcohol speaking). Chandler hated to show vulnerability, even within their close knit group. That trait was something they shared: She protected herself with bossiness and he used humour but deep down neither of them wanted to expose themselves. So, even in the midst of her tears, she cherished the moment, because Monica knew that the chance of Chandler allowing her to see him so hurt again were astronomically low.

Eventually, her chest stopped heaving and she realized his tears had dried up. She pulled away, rubbing at her face self-consciously. He gazed at her with wet eyes, looking embarrassed.

"Sorry," he muttered, scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand.

She caught his wrist. "Don't be." she said. "I'm the one doing a crap job of cheering you up."

Chandler smiled weakly. "Well I'm not suggesting a career as a counsellor. Your office would run out of tissues pretty fast."

Monica slid off his lap. "Good thing I'm not a chef not a counsellor then. Food is _always_ the best comforter."

"Agreed."

"So why don't I run over and grab my leftover chocolate brownie and ice cream instead? Forget this talking business."

"Eat our sorrows away?" He quipped. "I won't argue with that. Want me to put a movie on?"

"As long as it's not Baywatch or Star Trek, you're on."

She walked to the door, then paused and turned around.

"Chandler, I meant what I said earlier. You did the right thing for both of you. You'll find someone else. Someone you deserve."

Chandler looked at her and smiled. "We both will Mon, and if not, when we're both forty..." He trailed off, suddenly looking nervous and Monica remembered the conversation he was referring to.

_I'll tell you what. When we're 40, if neither one of us are married, what do you say you and I get together..._

At the time she'd been offended. Now, looking at Chandler's wet, worried eyes she took the offer for what it was: comfort from one of the sweetest friends she'd ever had. She smiled tenderly.

"Yeah," she agreed softly. "We'll always have that."

Later as she lay curled up against her best friend's side, squabbling over the last piece of brownie and smacking his arm when he made rude jokes, Monica thought that, even if she wasn't forty, Chandler wasn't a bad choice at all.


End file.
